Cinderfella
By Shotzette




Cinderfella

By Kath
Rated PG


This is a work of fanfiction and is not intended to infringe upon any and all copyrights held by Paramount, ABC, or anyone else. I'm not making a nickel off this, it's strictly written for grins and giggles.


Laverne's eyes swept over the ballroom carefully as she tried to memorize even the smallest details for posterity. The rich, gold brocade wallcoverings, the antique mahogany furniture, the immense crystal chandeliers, the ramp that led down from the presentation area...

She averted her eyes from the ramp. She knew she'd never forget that awful moment, but she was sure as heck going to try.

It hadn't been quite a perfect evening, as the rancid fruit-punch odor wafting up from her dress reminded her. She also hoped that the dry cleaner could get the punch stains out of poor Lizzie Borden's dress before she had to return it Squiggy's uncle's wax museum. Catching a glimpse of herself in one of the many ornately framed mirrors, Laverne concluded that the slightly wrinkled, turquoise velveteen gown still looked okay. From a distance.

Still, with all the humiliation the night had brought her, it had still been the classiest night of her life. Laverne smiled as she remembered dancing in the Duke's arms. For the first time in her life, she hadn't felt like a less-than-pretty girl from the wrong side of the tracks.

That alone was a miracle in her book.

A tap on her shoulder brought Laverne out of her reverie, and she whirled around in surprise.

Lenny stood there, looking unexpectedly dapper in his white tie and tails, with a strangely shy smile on his face.

"Uh, Laverne," he started with a nervous catch in his voice. "I know tonight ain't exactly been a dream come true for you-"

She cut him off immediately. "Len, the stuff that went wrong tonight wasn't your fault. I'm the one who tripped and sent myself head over tea kettle down the ramp. If anything, I should apologize to you for embarrassing you in front of the other royalty."

He looked at her in disbelief. "I wasn't embarrassed, Laverne! I was elbowing all of the other Counts and pointing out that my date was dancing with the Duke!" He looked away as if in thought for a moment. "I don't think those guys spoke any English, cuz they didn't say much. Except this one guy named Earl who told me to pipe down..."

"Len," Laverne interrupted, "I'm glad you invited me tonight. Besides, if I wasn't here, I'd be home watching "Sea Hunt" with Shirl."

Shirley!

Laverne looked around the ornate room in search of her best friend.

"Lenny, where'd Shirley go?"

"She left while you was dancing with the Duke. She said she knew that that things would be okay by then and wanted you to enjoy your big night. She told me she was going to the Pizza Bowl to meet up with Carmine."

"Aw, Len... It wasn't supposed to be my big night, it was supposed to be yours on account of you being a Count and all. I didn't mean to steal your thunder."

"Vernie," Lenny said, rolling his eyes, "there wasn't no thunder to steal. Look around," he said as he gestured to a group of aristrocratic men standing by the doorway, "you can't swing a dead cat in here without hitting a Count. This place is lousy with guys like me!"

"Still, I feel bad that I made a scene..."

"I know how you can make it up to me."

"Len," she said in a warning tone.

"No, not that," he said with a guffaw. Lenny pulled himself up to his full 6'2", squared his shoulders, extended his right hand, and said, "Laverne DeFazio, may I have this dance?"

Laverne blinked in surprise at his genteel tone, then smiled as she allowed herself to be led to the nearly empty dance floor. As Lenny placed his right hand on the small of her back and gently took her right hand with his free one, Laverne smiled nervously. Lenny Kosnowski was not known for his balance, grace, sense of rhythm, or any other positive attributes that made anyone a good dancer. Laverne braced herself for her second major humiliation of the night.

It never came.

She stared up at Lenny with wide-eyed amazement as he flawlessly waltzed her around the floor. Her mind was a jumble, and when she finally found her voice, she couldn't quite form whole sentences.

"How? When? Where-"

Lenny looked down at her and gave her a sly half smile, never once losing the beat, or mis-stepping.

"Carmine," he replied.

"Carmine?"

"Carmine," he affirmed, with a nod of his head. "I promised to help his mother move to her new apartment if he'd teach me to waltz." He looked away, and a slight flush crept up his face as he continued, "I didn't want to embarrass you or nothing, Laverne, since you agreed to go out with a jerk like me."

"Aw, Len," Laverne began, "don't say stuff like that about yourself."

"Laverne, it's okay. I'm really glad you agreed to come here with me tonight, even if it's only as a friend. I just wanted everything to be really classy."

Laverne opened her mouth to reply, then opted to simply smile into his beaming face.

Fortunately, their first waltz was followed by their second, then their third. Laverne gave herself over completely to the spinning and the rhythm in Lenny's arms. Laverne's mind reeled as she tried to reconcile her wonderfully foreign sensations with the Lenny Kosnowski she thought she knew.

All too soon, the music ended for the last time. Rich people really aren't night owls, Laverne mused to herself, it's only eleven o'clock. The parties she was used to didn't even get rolling until eleven.

*****

She was still smiling, loathe to let go of the fantasy, as Lenny led her across the parking lot to the Shotz truck he had "borrowed" for the evening. She smiled again as Lenny opened the passenger side door for her.

They drove in a comfortable silence through the Milwaukee night. The moonlight and the wattage from the many street lamps gave the industrial city a magical feel that was absent in the harsh reality of daylight.

During the drive from the Pfister Hotel to Knapp Street, Laverne covertly observed Lenny. Funny, she thought, in this light, he's almost handsome. His profile in the half light of the nighttime city was almost...aristocratic.

Laverne almost snorted aloud in derision. Lenny Kosnowski, an aristocrat. She was turning more and more into Shirley with each passing day. Find out a guy's got a fancy pedigree and she starts daydreamng about royalty, castles, and waltzing.

Waltzing.

Her mind drifted back to their dance a scant half hour ago. She felt herself flush as she remembered the sensation of being held confidently in Lenny's arms.

As if on cue, Lenny looked to his right and their eyes locked.

Laverne wished he would guffaw, or bite his palm, or do any of the familiarly annoying gestures she'd come to expect over the past eighteen years. Anything to break the spell.

Instead, he just smiled softly and turned his attention back to he road ahead of him.

*****

They arrived at their building on Knapp Street without either one of them saying a word.

Laverne had been prepared to say goodbye to Lenny at the building's front door, but he followed her through the dim hallway and down the poorly lit staircase to her apartment door in the building's cellar. Laverne felt oddly protected by his presence, and once again wondered at this rare chivalrous side of her old friend.

Friend. That's all Lenny was to her, she reminded herself anxiously as he nimbly plucked the key from her hand and opened her door. A friend. Her best guy friend. That's all.

They stood in the doorway for the longest time, just staring into each other's eyes. Somehow, Laverne could not say the word, "goodnight". Lenny's eyes fell to Laverne's lips, and he leaned down toward her slightly. Laverne suprised herself by meeting him more than halfway in what became a tender kiss. It was soft, but also romantic with currents of deeper emotion behind it.

It was definitely not a gentle little kiss you would give a baby's boom-boom.

As their kiss deepened, Laverne felt her arms encircle Lenny's neck and draw him closer to her. When his large hands crept to the small of her back, Laverne inwardly cursed the rigid network of canvas, stays, and metal ribbing in the corset that prevented her from feeling the full warmth of his touch.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Laverne stepped back from his embrace. "Would you like to come in?"

She knew the look in Lenny's blue eyes, the reflexive carress along her spine, the heaviness of his express; and she knew what they all meant.

Once again, he surprised her.

"Yes, Laverne. I'd like to. But I won't. I promised myself I'd be a gentleman tonight, and that's what I'm going to do," he said as she noticed the momentary tightening of his jaw. He took a deep breath and stepped back from her. "Goodnight, Laverne."

As she watch him turn and head towards the stairs that led to his apartment, the tiny clock on the shelf chimed midnight.


FIN












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